Girl Talk
by Hamstadini
Summary: A series of drabbles, focusing on what the Claymores talk about in their off time.
1. Just Looking

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own.**

Placement: Any time before volume 9

Girl Talk: Just Looking by Nathan Yuen

Though Helen and Deneve were assigned to different regions of the continent, every once in a while they would happen across each other. A while ago they simply attributed this to good luck and the possibility that they were assigned neighboring regions. In any case, if neither of them were on assignment they would simply head over to the nearest cantina, grab a table and get a drink together.

On this particular occasion, Deneve was nursing a cup of water while Helen toyed with a glass of bourbon – though Helen always insisted ordering the finest alcohol in the house "just for the taste," Deneve always suspected it was so her friend could get drunk.

Indeed, Deneve thought her friend was defying the laws of biology when Helen asked her, "So, who do you think is the best-looking guy in the room?"

The quiet warrior set down her drink and stared at her compatriot. "What kind of question is that?"

Helen shrugged. "Oh, you know… just asking. Because any girls that look as young as we do would be out on the town right about now."

Deneve looked around. Most people avoided the gaze of the silver-eyed warrior, but she found two men who were casting surreptitious looks at them. Deneve turned back to her companion. "Those two?"

Helen nodded. "I don't think the dark-haired one's that bad looking, actually."

"You know he'd run away if he saw you with your clothes off."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Helen threw her a salacious grin. "So long as you don't take off that particular part of the armor…"

Somehow, Deneve kept her composure. "Don't tell me you've – " For some reason, she couldn't finish the sentence.

"I've had a few. Some good, some… not so much." Helen gave her a sour look. "Oh, come on! Don't tell me you haven't had a man before. With your looks? Plus you always managed to have that near naked 'I-just-got-into-a-yoma-fight-today' look just after you go into battle…"

"It's not on purpose," Deneve said stiffly.

"I know, I know. I'm just saying. Some guys go for that kind of look." Helen brought her glass up to her mouth, frowned when she discovered it empty. "Gods, I wish I could get drunk."

Deneve fought back the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm glad that you can't," She replied, "I can only imagine how many barfights I'd have to pull you away from."

Helen laughed loudly and slapped her friend on the back, making the armor **clink** together.

Unabashedly, Deneve looked over at the pair of men. "I suppose the blonde one looks nice."

"Ooooh, does that mean you're going to go for it?"

"No."

END.

**Author's Note: All right, I have no idea where I was going with this. I guess after finals, I just needed to write something up, and this just popped into my head. Of course, at four in the morning, submitting anything **_**sounds**_** like a good idea…**

**Expect more as ideas come to me.**


	2. Exactly

**Disclaimer: Checked, still don't own.**

Placement: After Volume 11, before Volume 12.

Girl Talk: Exactly

The wind howled at Helen as she sat at the mouth of the cave, which overlooked the frozen tundra that the survivors of Pieta now called home. _Six years now in this frozen hellhole_, she thought bitterly, not caring about the juxtaposition in her description. _Still, we've made it worth our while,_ she reminded herself as she looked at her right palm. _At least we'll be ready when the time comes._

_Whenever that "time" is…_

A noise beside her jarred her out of her thoughts as she looked up. Claire and Yuma had made their way back to the cave, bringing back more salvaged supplies from the ruined northern towns. Claire set her burden down with a weary sigh.

From the cave mouth, Helen called out, "Still no luck, huh?"

Claire walked up to her and sat down. "No, still no sign. But I'm not giving up until I find out he's alive."

"You're one tough cookie, I'll give ya that," Helen said, "but you're searching for a ghost. Why look for this… Raki boy when you can do something more productive? Like crochet?"

Claire didn't even bat an eye at Helen's joke. "I made a promise. I told him that I'd see him again."

At this, Helen gestured frantically. "But why _him!?_ Boys like him are a dime a dozen. No wait," she said, remembering their first meeting, "I take that back. He's _worse_ than those that are a dime a dozen. He's weak, yet he still tries to protect you. He acts without thinking, following his heart instead. And finally, he doesn't know when to quit!"

To Helen's surprise, Claire rose with a smile. Her parting words left Helen sitting there for a long time:

"My thoughts exactly."

**Author's Notes: Meh. Could've turned out better.**


	3. Strength Alone

**Disclaimer: Don't own, probably don't want to; Norihiro is doing a fine enough job as it is.**

Placement: Any time before Volume 8

Girl Talk: Strength Alone

Undine's distain began when Galatea stooped to give a girl in rags a handful of beras. "What are you doing? We're on a hunt for a Voracious Eater, not to look for poster children for 'Houses for the Homeless!'"

Galatea rose and turned to face the muscular warrior. "You fail to grasp the details of the situation, self-proclaimed 'Strongest of all warriors.'"

Undine glared at the longhaired woman. "Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

"In order for the Organization and the Warriors known as Claymores to exist, we need to act courteous and generous to humans, not just stop short of killing them. Also, a little doling out of money can do wonders in our search."

"Feh! We don't need humans. We don't need to gain trust. Strength is enough to take down any Yoma!"

The nods of assent from a couple of the other Claymores in the hunter group were mitigated by the murmurs of worry from the citizens in the surrounding village. Galatea's eyes flickered to them, strategizing.

_This needs to end now._

Without replying directly, Galatea made her way to a table in an open area and sat down. She gestured to Undine to do the same. "How about we have a wager, then," she proposed, "We arm wrestle. Should I lose, you may take my rank as third highest warrior. Should I win, you stop this mutinous talk." She propped her elbow up, hand ready.

Undine looked down at her commander's gangly arm. In terms of base strength, she was stronger than Galatea. And she couldn't think of any way that she could lose.

"You're on!" she crowed, propping up her elbow to trap Galatea's hand in a steel grip. Amazingly, Galatea still had that assured smile on her face. _Bitch_ _doesn't know what's coming to her,_ Undine decided.

"Call the start, number eleven," Galatea offered.

Undine matched the smile with a smirk. "Fine. On your mark…"

The corner of Galatea's eyes crinkled.

"Get set…"

Undine's muscles bulged.

"Go!"

And Galatea let go.

Undine's arm slammed backward of its own accord, breaking through the table and sending the muscled warrior to the ground. Galatea rose, triumphant.

After gasping out in surprise Undine accused, "You cheated!"

Galatea straightened out her tunic. "I never said that I had to win by brute strength alone. I won by my own strengths – infiltrating the cracks in your yoma energy and turning your own strength against you."

Galatea's smile turned mocking as she stared down at the lower-ranked warrior. "And believe me, the cracks are many – your arrogance, your wishes…" her eyes tightened… "and your fears.

"If you think strength is enough to take down any yoma, then think on this; I can only exert a mere fraction of what Awakened beings can do to you. Your strength will be turned against you; you will kill your own friends, and then you'll kill yourself. It's not only strength, but tactics and psychology that lead to victory."

Galatea turned around, cloak swishing harshly. "Think on that and train harder later. For now, clean yourself up and pay for the table."

She walked away, leaving Undine to pick up the pieces.

**Author's note: A fictional confrontation between two Claymores of opposing values – also an explanation of why Undine can force off yoma manipulation with strength alone. It turned out a little less inspired than I hoped; I'll have to come back later and revise.**


	4. Buried

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own. Couldn't handle the pressure.**

Placement: Manga five. _Manga_ five, now – manga doesn't have Priscilla giving instant death to everybody within range.

Girl Talk: Buried

Sophia awoke to pain. Her body was wracked with it, throbbed with each passing pulse. Her eyes crept open.

And kept opening in amazement. _I've never seen a sky so blue before…_

But there it was. It didn't matter that craggy rocks were poking into her back, or that three points of numbness were slowly consuming her body; all that mattered was the vast ceiling of blue above her.

She heard a weak voice near her. "Sophia?"

She realized how parched her throat was as she croaked, "Noel?"

"What were we fighting about?"

"Oh, you mean Priscilla? Or Teresa?"

A tired sigh came from near her. "No. Not that…I mean before."

Sophia's brow furrowed as she thought of what Noel was talking about. "We were fighting about rank."

"Why?"

A moment passed before Sophia finally said, "You know what… I can't remember."

A low chuckle answered her. "All that fighting…and we can't remember why. Pretty dumb, huh?"

"Yeah, dumb."

"Sophia…sorry for giving you so much grief…bury the hatchet?"

The numbness wrapped Sophia in a cocoon, and bore her up so that she felt like she was flying. She said one last thing before the world went white:

"Consider it… buried…"

**Author's Note: Much props to Sideris for the preread.**


End file.
